Plot Bunnies Take Over Darlene's Head!
by abiirosee
Summary: A bunch of plot bunnies where you, the readers, get to decided which get to live and which can just forget about it! T for later bunnies that are forming.
1. Cinderella Doll

_**A/N;;**__ So, here's how this works:_

_Lately, I've had ZIP inspiration for any projects I have going on (and all of them are ON the first chapter. That's a fail.)_

_So, here's how this goes:_

1. I will give the basic information, followed by a sample of what the prologue/chapter will be like.  
2. Your job, as the reader, is easy: if you like it and want to see more of it, say **GO**, but- if you think it's going nowhere or dislike it, say **NO**.  
3. 2-5 votes in, it either gets the honors of being another one of my projects, or ends up in the dump pile with all my failed chapter twos of stories.

_Simple enough? We all understand? Good._

Making Fiends © Amy Winfry  
Ophelia, Nicholas, Quinton, Paul, Rachel, Rosalynn, Gwyneth © Me (or at least, ¾ me. The ¼ is because it's canon Marvin has 8 siblings.)

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Title:

Cinderella Doll

**Rating:** K+ to T

**Genre:** Romance, humor, fantasy, angst, drama

**Main Pairing(s):** Charvin

**Warnings?:** Possible mentions of suicide, war, swears, and saucy content.

**Plot:** Mid 1900's; a war has ended, and Marvin Sink, who lied to get drafted, returns from overseas to care for his family when his mentally ill mother takes a turn for the worse when his father disappears for a 'business trip.' He returns home with a gift from a girl whose family he had helped escape the city before it was bombed: a doll she said was magic. Putting it above the fireplace to serve as a constant reminder to how even though he is depressed he did something good, he awakes one night to find a girl in the place of the doll.

**Where We Left Off:** Marvin sets the doll on the fireplace, and hesitates on using his handgun to shoot himself.

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Prologue

Clamburg; a small town that is located near a harbor and dock, the main point of oversea trades, its main income. A town once kept busy with trades and stocks now struggled to even clean up the docks.

Since the war, trading across the seas was banned, and Clamburg struggled to thrive on something other than trade. Clams were not selling well after an explosion of an oil rig by enemy ships, and the men who had tended to the clam business were currently gone, overseas along with the rest of the country.

Now, with the war ended, and many returning home, Clamburg would have to find its pace until trade in other countries was eligible, and so far, that was not working.

Standing on the dock, he rubbed his arm; the sling it was put in making it ache from being held in one place, and he raised his head to see his little sister, almost all grown up, tears in her eyes, rushing up to him. "I thought they killed you!" She embraced him, her dark curls rubbing against his wool coat, her emerald eyes filled with tears of concern.

"I'm alright." It was weird to be receiving this much concern from her, when the last thing she said to him, a year prior to his draft two years ago, was that she could 'care less if they blew him up, and hoped he'd never come back.'

Then again, life was different for his large family three years back. His mother still could walk and talk and cook and care for them, his father was around, and his siblings disliked him.

Then, a week before his letter came, something happened. His mother was lifeless, staying in her room, and his dad worked "overtime" more than usual. His siblings needed someone, but when he tried to care for them, as young as he was, they pushed him away; they told him to leave and never come back when he said they were being drafted.

"Aunt Gwyneth said that it would be a miracle if you got out of the city before the bombing, as few military personal knew."

His thoughts were cut short as she released his grip. "Marvin, don't ever leave us again."

"I can't make promises." The girl frowned. "Ophelia, let's go home."

* * *

Dinner had gone smoothly. His aunt, Gwyneth, had dropped by sometime during his time in Europe, and saw how the family was struggling with her sister pretty much dying and her brother-in-law always away.

Everyone wanted him to tell his stories, but Marvin had refused. "You big pussy," Nicholas, the second eldest, said.

"Marv, why not?" Paul, Ophelia's twin, stated. Rachel and Rosalynn had whined and Gwen had hushed them, and the rest of the dinner had gone on in silence.

Now nearing eleven, he was unpacking his suitcase in the living room, as Aunt Gwen had instructed so she could wash all his clothes, and at the bottom, he pulled out the little porcelain doll he had found.

"Your arm still hurt?" Jumping back, a shawdowed figure moved, and bright, blue orbs glared from the corner. His hair was like black silk, and he wore typical night wear pants.

"Quinton!" Jumping to his feet, he rubbed his injured arm. "Not so much anymore; only when I haven't moved it in a while."

"What's with the doll?" Marvin turned so his back faced the middle child. Out of all of them, Marvin always knew Quinton was not like the rest of them; as a child, his parents fought, and Quint's name would always be dropped, but Marvin still had no clue as to why.

Perhaps it was because behind his quiet exterior was a mentally disturbed teen; obsessed with death and gore.

"You've seen it all, and you have yet to turn eighteen." He clenched the doll tighter as the footsteps approached him.

"I've questioned the value of life; children cry as their parents are murdered in front of them and the innocent are beaten down. Houses are burned and bodies have littered the street."

"Ah, and that is how it should be, for life is of little value." He placed a hand on the elder's shoulder, and smiled, his sapphire orbs reflecting orange in the glow of the fireplace. "And the doll?"

"A girl, not any older than Rachel and Rose," he ran a hand through chocolate locks, and his eyes closed. "Her parents had been beaten down, and I believe officers had abused her… I had heard rumors of bombings, and worked with the others who took it seriously to evacuate the citizens. I was left paroling the city hours before the bombing happened…

"The girl had approached me; apparently her and her large family could not get out. I was able to get a military vehicle and drive them into another city, away from… The bomb site."

"So, you saved her?"

"Yes, and her family. Before I left, an hour before the bombing took place, I was invited to eat dinner, and before I left, the girl gave me her doll as a reminder; told me it was magical. It would help me when I was in doubt."

"Bullshit."

"When I returned, the city… Was gone." He bit his lip and placed the doll in the center of the fireplace.

"Amazing. How are you not cold and distanced?"

"Go to bed." Quinton growled, but trudged into his room anyway. Finishing unpacking, he pulls out his handgun; a pistol he had used before on people, and regretted. He approached the doll.

_How can you not be cold and distanced?_

He needed to be strong for his family, and he shook as he brought the pistol to his head, near tears, and sobbing.

The doll's painted sky blue eyes stared at him, a smile painted on her pretty pale lips, and her curly blonde hair seemed to brighten the dark room as the fire was dying.

_Don't do it_, she seemed to cry out, as her smile seemed to fade. He placed the pistol on the couch, by his clothes, and turned to the doll.

"Another time." His dark sea green eyes were red from the tears; his head pounded in his ears, his heart raced.

"Just not tonight."

* * *

_Go or No?_

_**-Dar**_


	2. View From the Third Floor

_**A/N;;**__ Here we go again. I have A LOT of plot bunnies._

Making Fiends © Amy Winfrey

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Title:

View From the Third Floor

**Rating:** T+

**Genre:** Romance, crime, angst, drama

**Main Pairing(s):** Possible Magachi

**Warnings?:** Murder, crime, saucy-ness, swears

**Plot:** AU; In a small farming community, Malachi Elise was always a big dreamer. His life was turned upside down when crime bosses Matteo and Luca Delano hire him to watch out for the youngest girl: Margret May. At first, the two don't seem to get along, but when events start turning and secrets are shared, perhaps they can help each other out?

**Where We Left Off:** Luca and Matteo are discussing ways to keep Maggie out of trouble.

* * *

**Prologue**

It was something Luca often wondered himself. The light skinned, dark brown haired male of near 50 years had only two heirs to his business.

Benevento Juan or Camillo Antoni.

And only one was still around, Benny, the oldest, and the one who would've been top dog regardless if Cam had ran off and gotten married or not.

His children were… Nuisences in his opinion; Benny, egocentric, stubborn, envious; Ismeralda, selfish, overdramatic, perfectionist; Cam, coward, stage performer, one he never wanted to see again.

There was one he always fond so troublesome though; the youngest, his litte flower, his late wife's namesake.

_Margret May._

The girl was much more trouble than she was worth. With Is gone and Cam off in some big city singing under the alias Toni Alonso. Benny was too busy being trained by Matteo to watch the girl, and now, unsupervised, and nearing the age of eighteen, the age Matteo had discussed either shipping her off to become a star like Ismeralda or marry her off to a family with good ties.

And since she would never be Ismeralda, his favorite daughter, she would just have to settle for the latter. Margret May was trouble though; many potential husbands she had met she had scared them off. The girl preferred staying in her room; the room that was dark red and black, writing poems.

She was also a little hellion; a punk. Drugs and alcohol were found around her room in various places.

Definitely, the loner of the four kids.

"I don't know what to do with her, Matteo."

"Luca," Matteo spoke, his bright orange-brown hair shining in the small crack of light peaking through the curtains. "I believe I have a solution to your daughter's… Problems."

"Yes?"

"A babysitter of some sorts; one to uphold moral values." He handed his older brother a case file. "Also, this is Alessandro Ricci of the Ricci family."

"A Ricci? Why, they're probably the richest family in town." Matteo gave his brother a devilish grin.

"Yes, and Alessandro has expressed interest in Margret May." Luca raised a dark eyebrow at this. "There's a community outside of town, it upholds… Values. Something the girl lacks. We can find a male who will teach her how women should act, preferably engaged to one, so his fiancé can teach her how to act."

"I'll send my best man there tomorrow."

And so, her fate was settled. Luca hoped everythign would go as planned.

_

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_

Luca = Onion Man

_No or go?_

_**-Dar**_


	3. You Love Me Not!

_**A/N;;**__ Another bunny! This time, it contains OCs!_

_I named it after the song "My Best Friend's Hot." 'Cause I like it._

Making Fiends © Amy Winfrey  
Chardonnay, Xavier © Me  
Josiah, Migdalia © Rhe'anne Lynn  
Adriana, Kaori, Kaoru © LoveUponA'Star  
My Best Friend's Hot © The Dollyrots  
Satellite © Lena

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Title:

You Love Me Not!

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Romance, humor, and some fail!drama

**Main Pairing(s):** DonXav, MigJo, AdriKao, Yaori, CaliIke, one-sided Ike/Mig

**Warnings?:** Drugs and alcohol, and implied content.

**Plot:** AU; Friends cannot date friends, it ends badly, or that's what Adriana thinks. When Migdalia decides she wants to date Ike, everyone is in a huge fit, especially Josiah. Meanwhile, Kaoru tries to show Adriana dating friends isn't all bad, and Xavier and Chardonnay argue over whether or not to admit that they're in a serious relationship, while Xavier attempts to help Yasuo win Kaori's heart without being murdered by Kaoru.

**Where We Left Off:** Chardonnay and Xavier's conversation is interrupted by the smoke alarm.

* * *

**Chapter One: My Best Friend's Hot  
**_"My best friend's hot! My best friend's hot! No matter what I do, you love me not!"_

"I like Ike."

No, it wasn't a political statement, it was the truth. Adriana's jaw dropped, and the pale skinned Spanish-decent girl could hardly believe her ears.

"You **what?**" It was her golden rule: **FRIENDS DON'T DATE FRIENDS!** And Ike was that semi-friend who they either hated or liked at one point or another. Regardless, he was a semi-friend, much like Saeran or Yasuo, but they fell into two whole different categories.

"I like Ike."

"What, did you roll the hell out of bed and decide this?" The mocha-skinned Latina rolled her eyes, a shade of dark brown, and shook her head.

"No, I've… I've always thought he was cute."

"Are you INSANE?" Adriana screamed, her black hair seeming to stick out when she said that, and her midnight blue tips along with it. "This is IKE! Need I remind you who he LIKES, Migdalia?"

"Calista ain't got nothin' on me."

Poking his head up from his book and removing his headphones, he blinked as the two bickered. Josiah, the dull brown haired male, shook his head at the usual sight.

"Are you insane? This is CALISTA!"

"Ike likes me, I know it," Migdalia said, staring into Adriana's dark eyes. Josiah coughed to cover up his horror. Often times before, Migdalia had confided in him over various crushes and short-lived flings… But this was Ike. Ike was a friend of his.

"It's only a matter of time before we start dating." Slamming his book down to gain attention, he narrowed his eyes, and stood up, waving them off. He began to walk away, and sighed to himself.

There were two things wrong with Migdalia attempting to date Ike…

One, Ike was his friend, and the rest of the group's as well. Adriana would kill one or both of them before letting them break her rule.

And two, the shocking one, was that he, Josiah Poms, liked Migdalia Juanita Trinidad.

* * *

"I hate you."

The words meant nothing; he always said it after the two fell back into his or her bed, her attempting to redo her bra, and him attempting to stay awake afterwards, depending on whose house they were at.

Sadly, he'd probably have to attempt to get dressed, considering the fact he was, indeed, at her house, and Gravity didn't know what knocking was.

"Whatever," she replied lazily, falling back onto the bed after sliding on her panties, and she laid on her said, facing him. "So…?"

"What?" he replied, grinning like a fool when she ran a hand through his multi-blond locks, and she rolled her eyes, the prettiest shade of gray he'd ever saw.

"Did you tell them?" A silence filled the air, and her hand left his hair, and he rolled over on his side, his back facing her. "You didn't? XAVIER!"

"Not now," he grumbled in complaint. It was the argument of the century: after two years of serious dating, Chardonnay decided it was time to tell their friends, even though the group was against "friends dating friends."

Xavier himself was a bit more hesitant, not because of his friends, but because of her friends. Adriana disliked him enough as it was, and Migdalia just hated him (that came off as a surprise to the boy with Swedish blood, that the violent freak just disliked him and the "sweetheart" of the three girls had openly admitted to him what she would do if he was dead, and it was not pretty).

"I thought we made a deal here!"

"It's not that I don't WANT to tell MY friends…"

"Then what?"

"It's yours."

_Love, oh love, I gotta tell you how I feel about yo-_

"Hello?" She stood up, grabbing her shirt and pulling it over.

"WHO IS IT?"

"Shut the HELL up!" The dark red-brown haired female waved him off. "No! No! It's just Gravity!" Nodding as the other person spoke, he was guessing Adriana, Xavier stood up and crossed his arms. "Calm down! I'll be there soon! Yeah, I can see if Xavier can come."

Raising an eyebrow, he heard the other yell. "I'm getting ready! JEBUS!" Hanging up, she turned to him, and shook her head. "Adri says we need to all meet up about something important."

"Why did you say I was Gravity?"

"Why- Do not go there, Xavier Minty!"

"I'm just saying," he pointed out.

"Well- Hey, do you smell smoke?"

"Yeah…" A scream was heard downstairs, and the two sprung up. "SHIT! GRAVITY!"

"Where are my freaking pants? XAVIER! DO NOT LEAVE THIS ROOM UNTIL YOU HAVE SOMETHING ON!"

_

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_

I'm planning on revising this if it gets the Go.

_**-Dar.**_


	4. Me and My Guitar

_**A/N;;**__ Pffft. This is probably the next installment of the __Slide__ series, except with Margarita. If need be, I'll start this before I finish AtTSS_

Making Fiends © Amy Winfrey  
Me and My Guitar © Tom Dice  
Margarita © Me  
Yahir © Rhe'anne Lynn

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Title:

Me and My Guitar

**Rating:** T

**Genre:** Romance, humor, and some fail!drama

**Main Pairing(s):** Yahir/Margarita

**Warnings?:** Drugs and alcohol, and implied content.

**Plot:** Margarita is chasing her dreams in California. Yahir is the agent who has known her since they were children. Can petite feelings and insane little adventures really get in the way of both their careers?

**Where We Left Off:** Margarita and Yahir's meeting ends bitterly due to Yahir refusing to let Margarita try acting.

* * *

**Prologue**

"Come in." He knew that knock all too well. She was mad, and he absolutely hated dealing with her when she was mad. It was a terrible, hereditary trait from both parents, except unlike her mother, she didn't set the object of her anger on fire. Clicking the keys on the laptop, he watched her storm in, and glare at him.

He was beyond glad she didn't burn people when mad, or else he'd be up in flames. "What the hell, Yahir!"

"_Señorita_ Minty," he spoke, fixing his tie. While at work, he hated not being addressed professionally. He always corrected her when she called him out by his first name, because it was implying they had more than a client-agent relation.

But that was true; Yahir had known the royal blue haired girl since she was a tot, running around causing issues. He was seven years her senior, and yet that wasn't a huge age gap, it was enough for him to still treat the nineteen-year-old like a child.

"Why did you cancel that film audition?" Raising an eyebrow, he looked up. "I called and asked what time I needed to be there, and the secretary said that auditions were done and you had called and said you cancelled my being there."

Honestly, even though he was twenty-six, he thought of himself as a mature young man, who knew what was best for Margarita Minty. "_Señorita _Minty, we've been over this before."

"But I think acting will help my music career take off!" Shaking his head, he closed his laptop, and bit his lips. "What? Is my acting that bad?"

"No, no, _mi quierda_," he waved his hands. He watched her cross her arms over her chest, tapping her foot. Her curly royal blue hair bounced as her foot tapped and plum colored eyes met his dirty gold colored ones. "If anything, you're the best I've seen by far, but,_ Señorita_ Minty, you want to be a musician, no?"

"I do, Yahir!"

"_Señorita_ Minty, we're talking about this as a client-agent." Rolling her eyes, she slipped into a falsehtto, and started mocking him.

"Okay, okay, _Señor _Sosa!" she mocked.

"_Señorita_ Minty, I'm afraid with how the script was written, they won't take you, _como música_, seriously."

"Oh, so this is about the script now?"

"_Sí_, the script of the character they wanted you to play was too racy; you showed too much skin." Margarita scoffed, and Yahir cringed.

"You always say that when it comes to acting!"

"Do you want to be known around Hollywood as the girl who plays the slut in the movie?" He watched her expression change from anger to shock. "I'm looking out for your best interests."

She left the room in tears, and he sat down, opening his laptop. She'd thank him one day, just not today.

_

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_

Go or No?

_Margie is definitely Xavier's daughter. Besides taking after him in looks, she takes after him in hobbies. She acts a lot like her mom at times though…_

_**-Dar**_


	5. Dr Shyy: Luv Guru

_**A/N;;**__ Pfffft._

_Fun Fact: I think Mort's family is my favorite family I've created for the canon. Next to Marion's, they're normal, but insane; sport enthusiasts with the music obsessed nerd. Classic._

_Also, if you refer to half of Mort's family charts uploaded (I'm working on the last three right now; Dallas and Avigail's should be up eventually) everyone's age has been pushed up by 6 years._

Making Fiends © Amy Winfrey  
Sibilia, Avigail, Dallas © Me

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Title:

Dr. Shyy: Luv Guru

**Rating: **K+, maybe T

**Genre: **Humor, romance, general

**Main Pairing(s):** Many

**Warnings?: **Mort centric story, swears

**Plot: **AU;When he was younger, Mort wrote an anonymous 'self help' section of the newspaper under the pseudonym Dr. Shyy. Now he has his own MyFace blog, and is helping everyone with their personal and love lives! Oh no, how can THIS end well?

**Where We Left Off: **Mort receives messages from old admirers.

**

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Prologue

"Name? Dr. Shy… With two y's!"

The light clacking of keys caused the small Sibilia to glance up, her mocha skin making her bright blue eyes pop. "What are ya doin'?"

"None of your concern, Sibby!" Peering up from her book, meeting his gray-blue eyes, Sibilia tugged on her light black (how that was possible, don't ask me) hair, forcing her smile to appear. "Why don't you go play soccer with Avi or Dal? I'm sure they'll enjoy spending time with you."

"Whatever, not like I care if you're looking up 'inappropriate material.'" Tossing her book on the table, the girl stood up and walked out. "AVIGAIL! DALLAS! WHO WANTS TO GET THEIR ASSES KICKED?" A chorus of yells came from outside and Sibilia ran off to join her sisters, and Mort sighed.

Sometimes, he wondered if his family could be considered normal, but next to Marion's, his family was pretty well put together, save a few personal issues between Avi and Randy, and Max's drinking, but the latter wasn't a problem anymore.

"Yes, I agree. Create…" Pushing his glasses up, he immediately went into the kitchen to see his father, and he waved. "Hey, Pops!"

"_Hallo_*." Waving to his son. "Your _bruder_* will be coming back for a visit." His father had been raised with all his family from Germany in a small German community in Iowa**.

"Which one?"

"Adolph**."

"His name's Randolph, dad." Opening the fridge, he grabbed a juice box, and jabbed the straw into it, and eyed his father.

"_Nein_, Mikkel," he shook his head. "His name is Adolph."

"Whatever floats your boat." Walking back over to the computer, he found as of already, he had many friend requests, and a messag.

Glancing at the list of requests, he raised an eyebrow at this, and noticed it was all kids from his school, most of them having worked on the newspaper six years back. Clicking **approve** for each one, he went to his inbox and found a message from the Room 4 news papers' second-in-command, Leni Luise, a sweet little blonde who was indeed hyper.

_like, is that yu? OMG! i was suuuuuch a huuuuge fan when yuu did the room 4 news paper 6 yeears baaack! wht happeneeeed 2 yuuuuuuuuuu?_

_chat me up sometime! how yuuu been?_

_- - Leni Luise (;_

Mort cringed, then smiled slightly, clicking reply and typing up a smooth reply.

_Ohh, hey Leni! Wow, its been a while, but I moved away. Im glad you liked my work back then! (;_

_Peachy, the weather here is hot. But hey, what would you expect?_

_~ Dr. Shyy_

Clicking **send**, he leaned back, and smiled. This was his best idea yet.

**CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!**

"What the fucking HELL?" And in came his mother, her dark skin flustered with anger, and his dad sticking his head out from the kitchen.

"_Liebe*_, I think the _Mädchen* _broke something."

"DALLAS JANE, AVIGAIL DANIKA, AND SIBILIA LEAH JONES! GET YOUR DEAD ASSES IN HERE!" Mort raised an eyebrow at his mother's way of calling for his sisters. But when the three entered, Mort smiled and pointed.

"BUSTED!"

"Morton Kent, do not make this any worse than it is!"

**

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NOTES:

_Hallo_ = Hello, in case you don't know.  
_Bruder_ = Brother  
_Nein_ = No  
_Liebe_ = Love  
_Mädchen_ = Girls, but from what I gathered, it's also the singular form. It's confusing to me as it is, but my friend who _barely_ knows German told me it was correct enough.

**Amana Colonies in Iowa is an interesting place; if you ever by chance find yourself in Iowa (why would anyone want to come here, I don't know), visit there (and Adventure Land). Anyways, Amana was a small community divided into colonies to prevent the spread of disease, fonded by German immigrants.

**If any of you read my character charts, you'll notice that for the first three of Mort's family, they have nicknames that aren't really related to their names; their dad picked out "German names" to call them by because, uh, I guess he really wants his kids to have German names. Mikkel is Mort's, just because I haven't stated that anywhere.

**

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ACTUAL IMPORTANT; NOT BORING NOTE:

In order to write this story, you, as the reader, will need to help. You will be writing me (as Mort) for advice (as a certain character). It can either be CANON or OCs. You can use your own OCs or **someone else's ONLY IF they GIVE YOU PERMISSION FIRST!** This does not apply for anyone wanting to use my OCs, since right now **anyone wanting to use any of my OCs for this, may. This is your permission.**

In order to do this, you can either **email** or **PM **me.

Here is the format for **EMAIL**:  
**TO:** my email address  
**SUBJECT:** (Character's Name; CANON OR OC- - This is important, so I can clarify how well Mort knows this person.)  
**BODY of EMAIL:** This is where anything can be used, make sure you start it out with something address Dr. Shyy first, and then end it with an pseudonym. Like "Confused Girl" or something like that.

My friend ReaRea wrote up an example (formatted how it will appear to me):  
Vendetta SAMPLE; Canon  
**(NAME TAKEN OUT FOR PRIVACY)** to me.

Stupid Dr. Shyy,  
I've recently began to think I have lost my ability to strike fear into people. How can this be!  
From,  
The Bulgarian Princess

**Me:** -receives email, thinks or Mort-ish reply, writes chapter-

PM Format:  
Basically, it's the same as above, without the "TO:" part.

Example (me as my OC, Kirill):  
**Subject:** Kirill; OC!  
**Body:** Dr. Shyy;;  
I've been very shy and cold my entire life, and haven't spoken to my parents since I moved in with my four roommates, who I also barely speak too. Recently, I've taken an interest in this girl, and now I'm at a lost of how to talk to her. HELP!  
= Russian in Love

Simple, right?

Okay, enough with a long note.

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Everyone got it?

_No or go?_

_**- - Dar**_


	6. Better Off Blind

_**A/N;;**__ Please, please, please vote between this version, or 100WtKY_

Making Fiends © Amy Winfrey  
Tristan © Me

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NOTE:

Please review "REWRITE!" if you want this version, or "NO!" if you want to continue with 100 Ways to Kill Yourself

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**Title:** Better of Blind

**Rating:** T to M

**Genre:** Romance, angst, drama

**Main Pairing(s):** Tristan/April

**Warnings?:** Suicidal attempts, swears, death, really bad description if cancer, adult themes.

**Plot:** Due to his sudden, renewed self-destructive streak, Soleil forces Tristan to go see a shrink, and unknowingly, signs him up with Isaac, who is out to get revenge against their mother for turning in everyone associated with KOS. Meanwhile, Tristan deals with his feelings for April, and his dying little sister, and April knows this shrink is up to no go.

**Where We Left Off:** End of session one, and Tristan begins to feel like this doctor is encouraging him to hurt himself.

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PART I

_Session 1_

Sitting on the couch, legs crossed, and leaning against the painted brown walls, he studied the male before him. He was older, maybe even fifty, but not a day younger than thirty. He began to breathe slowly, and he tugged at his dark orange hair, his silver tips shining in the dull room.

"What about friends? Do you have any?"

"No." So far, he refused to answer any questions tossed his way, and the male felt this an entire waste of time. He only agreed to keep Soleil from reporting him to everyone; his parents, the school, even the cops. He refused to let his older sister do that to him.

"Any… Significant other?" He closed his eyes and began to shake. He decided to stop smoking, at least in his house, due to the last time he smoked, Maika had caught the smell and had a relapse. He wanted to keep her alive, at least so she could see something amazing in life, but right now, there was nothing grand to life.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes." He began to think of pale blonde hair, light waves touching her shoulder, and teal eyes shining brightly behind glasses.

The man began to write this down, and smiled to himself, "And what is her name?"

He fidgeted, and shook his head, biting his lip, and played with his necklace. The man's fading black hair reflected little light, and he spoke, "Have you talked to her? How does she view you?"

"She calls me friend."

"You told me you have no friends."

"I try not to get attached."

"Why's that?"

"Because who knows when I'll pull the trigger on my life." The man seemed pleased with this answer, and began to write more down, and the gray eyed teen said, "I'm trying to distance myself from her."

"And how is that working?"

"Terrible."

"She's always on your thoughts, yes?"

"I can't close my eyes and not see that pale face."

"Tell me, Tristan," the man began, tapping his pen against the clipboard, "do you… _Fantasize_ about this girl, per say?"

He chuckled, and Tristan at first must have looked offended, but then he let a relaxed snort out, and smiled. "Only every day."

It seemed wrong; the only person he considered his best friend, and he dreamt about her being his first _everything_. He scratched his head and smiled. "God, if only I wasn't leaving soon."

"You could always _do_ it now, and kill yourself later."

Tristan raised an eyebrow, "That's getting attached." The older man chuckled, and the teen felt awkward; wasn't he suppose to, I don't know, tell him NOT to kill himself?

"That's **her** getting **attached** to **you**, not vice versa."

"Still."

The timer beeped, and the man smiled. "Think about it, Tristan, and I'll see you next week."

Standing up, he didn't shake his hand, and he left, feeling insanely weird. Something didn't feel right about this man.

He didn't even know what to call him.

And he was _encouraging_ suicide?

What kind of psychologist was he?

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_Working out the kinks, but I prefer this version to the one in progress right now._

_**- - Darlene A. Mode**_


	7. Fame Monster

_**A/N;;**__ I- I- I'M WORKING! I PROMISE!_

Chardonnay, Saeran © Me

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Title:

Fame Monster

**Rating:** T+

**Genre:** Romance, humor, drama

**Main Pairing(s):** DonXav

**Warnings?:** Possible character death, drug use, alcohol, swears, and others.

**Plot:** TO THE ALBUMS THE FAME MONSTER AND THE FAME BY LADY GAGA! Living an everyday life, Chardonnay's best friend, famous singer Adri, invites her back stage to a concert where she meets the young, new teenage girls' dream, Xavier. What quickly was one-sided loathing turns into friendship, but between sudden illnesses and the paparazzi, can this very odd couple last?

**Where We Left Off:** We look inside the mind of Chardonnay Garcia, and how she loathes the famous.

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**Fame Monster**  
_Chapter 1_

You couldn't go anywhere without seeing this damn poster.

She raised the cup of steaming caffeine to her mouth and turned around, facing the male with fire truck red hair. She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged his shoulders, his freckled face red from the heat in the city. "Eileen."

Even nearing middle aged women were in love with this boy.

She nodded and turned back, studying the posted as if it were the Devil. No one could look that perfect. No one. She clenched the cup tighter, and tried not to choke on her hot beverage, and looked. The back drop was black, with a city in the horizon, and the single park bench in the center was occupied by the male.

Most people didn't care about his music, and only paid attention to him for his looks; he was well built, and seemed to be tall. He had curly and long dirty blond lowlights occupying his bleach blond hair, and shining blue eyes. If she weren't so strong willed, she'd fall for his dazzling smile, the playful gleam in those sky blue orbs, and the tank top-wearing male also.

"He's not bad." She turned and hummed towards the male. "This Xavier guy, I mean. Can sing decent, at least."

"In a recording studio." She has never heard a song of his, mind you. This was the brown-red headed female being bitter towards the male. "God. I hate people that get everything they want without having to try."

The male looked up from the paper he was reading. "Like Adriana?"

Her lips curled into a smile, or maybe a snarl, he can't tell. "Adri's… Different. She had to work. She can sing live, Saeran."

Saeran's emerald orbs pierced into her gray orbs. "Yeah, but now she gets anything. You still have to be discovered by a talent scout. Migdalia's waiting for someone to publish her- -."

"You haven't heard?" she asked, a hint of jealousy in her voice as she turned to face the poster. "The same company that published King Dan Stephen's books are going to publish her."

His jaw dropped, and Saeran was shocked, and couldn't form the words. She turned and smiled. "They won't let me into the Russian ballet academy."

"Are you shitin' me, Don?"

She shook her head, and checked her watch. "No, and I gotta go. See ya later, Sae."

"See ya."

Pushing open the doors, she began to make her way to the dance studio. She had classes and promised to fill in during the younger girl's classes as a co-instructor. She tossed her empty coffee into the nearest trash bin, and stopped momentarily to glance at a glamorous poster of her dearest friend, Adriana.

The black haired female was dressed in a black dress, microphone in the other, surrounded by bright lights and glitter. Don frowned to think about the Irish boy's comment. Yes, everyone had gotten what they wanted, except herself. Granted, a few others weren't where they wanted to be (Saeran for one, and Alyxzander had lost everything after Peaches dumped him), but it just sucked to see your two best friends living their dreams.

It fucking sucked. Since she was five, she worked hard to be a great dancer. She studied all kinds of dance, and even joined the Around the World company for her sophomore year summer to study all other kinds from around the world, like Armenian and Russia's very prestigious ballet.

She had tried out for Miss Morozova's Academy for Ballet over in Moscow when they had ventured to New York for new additions, and the studio had been famous for training the most well known dancers ever, but she did not accept her. They said she wasn't… What they wanted.

Making a face, she turned and began to walk. Even the classical music industry was bull shit. Her step-brother, Josiah, was a mute boy who had learned to play piano well. They didn't let him into the most well known orchestra ever. It was a well known pianist that got the spot.

It became obvious, if you were a nobody just trying your luck, with not an ounce of fame to your name, you're just fighting. Migdalia was better well known in the city, because her older sister was an actress. Adriana had (briefly) dated well known photographer Ike. This new Xavier guy

See? Connections. Something she lacked.

Before she pushed opened the door to the studio, her phone vibrated, and she opened the text.

It was from Adriana.

_At MSG 2nite, free BACKSTAGE passes for yu both! - A_

Both meant herself and Migdalia. She sighed, knowing she'd never get out of it, and turned her phone off before she went to teach the class.

It was going to be a LOOOONG day.

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AU STORIES ARE FUUUN~

_**- - Darlene A. Mode**_


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